A Simple Story
by Wee.Bones
Summary: This is pure fluff that I wrote from some practice and entertainment. Only chapter 5 is rated M and it doesn't have to be read to further the story in any way. Please let me know what you think if you have the time.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a practice fic. Chapters 1-4 are completely K-T rated, chapter 5 is not. I haven't written in a while and thought I'd try out a small fanfic I comped entirely in one night so I could test my rusty skills out. Please be generous with constructive criticism and I am deeply sorry for any mistakes I make. All errors are mine, the story and characters are not. Please, enjoy.  
_

Chapter 1.

Let it never once be said, in any kingdom, country, plane or universe, that Alice Kingsleigh was a graceful faller.

After tearing her way out of the party at some acquaintance's house, Alice had dug the ornate pins from her hair, ripped away the stupid puffed sleeves from her dress, and ripped out the lacy ribbons from her hair. Then, once on the other side of the lush gardens of some Socitey member or another, Alice had tumbled down a rather steep hill. And while she was tumbling, apparently whatever deity was watching the skies tonight had seen fit to make it rain.

She had landed in a heap, after receiving several cuts and bruises, her whale bone dress hoop as opened to the air as a pretty spring tulip.

She had collected herself and trudged on, cold and wet. Her gown, stupid frivolous thing, felt as if it weighed as much as a ship. Gooseflesh crept along her legs and arms, bare of stockings and gloves. For a fleeting moment, Alice wished she had acquiesced to her mother's request of proper under garments, then tossed that thought far into the night.

Five years, she had been gone, sailing around the world, much to her mother's horror. At four and twenty, Alice was the worst kind of spinster, having spent her youth in wild, gay abandon. In her mother's opinion anyway. Never mind the fact that her travels and trading had brought her mother back into the lifestyle to which she was accustomed, then kept her there while Alice gallivanted about the globe.

Alice had been back for a month, dreading the day Mrs. Kinsleigh would lure her back into Society. Like a civilized woman, you know. She'd tirelessly worked with maids and tailors to design a face, gown, and gloves that would cover the healthy gold of her skin, the slide of muscle in her arms and the callouses on her dainty fingers.

Half a decade aboard a ship would certainly do that to a person, Alice mused as she trudged through the bushes.

Society would never accept her now. Not when she had socked a young lord who had gotten too fresh right in his perfect snub nose. The worst part was, she didn't even know his name. Not that it mattered, really. She'd seethed the entire night, fuming at the pompous gits who'd filled her dance card. None of them knew what she liked to read, to eat, what tea she drank or what dances she preferred. None of them cared to find out. All they say was a wealthy spinster who was away most of the year.

Not a man could be found who could measure up to him.

"I would be a terrible wife," she said to herself. "I cannot cook, I cannot mend... I am by no means proper or un-opinionated." Her gown hit a patch of thorns and she yanked at it carelessly until she could move on unhindered.

She thought briefly about crying, but rejected that notion immediately. She had not cried for years, not since that dreadful month on board The Chessur when she had come down with a dreadful island fever. In her cabin, she'd allowed herself a good wallow in self pity. She'd cried for Underland, for Chessur, for the White Queen, for the Hatter. Oh, how she'd cried for the Hatter.

For five long years, Alice had contemplated the entirety of the alphabet. But no matter how hard she tried, Alice could not drag her focus away from the wonderful things she could list from Underland. For all the wonders she'd seen, all the people she'd met, all the spices she'd tasted and the silks she'd run between her fingers, none of it was a rich and lovely as Underland. Her world seemed so pale and lackluster in comparison.

It had taken Alice two years to begin searching for Underland again. Sometimes her dreams had been so vivid, she'd thought herself home again, only to wake and choke bad her sadness and ray for sleep again. She was satisfied she'd examined every rabbit and fox hole in China, fondled every rabbit -white or not, just in case, you know- inspected every hollow log, and even once attempted to dig her own hole.

Then she'd thought maybe she would find it if she wasn't looking, and had tried that for a long while. But of course, it hadn't worked, for Alice was always looking for Underland.

And tonight, of all dreadful nights, she needed it most. Her mother had turned her face from her in embarrassment. Every childhood friend had blanched, and only the captain of her ship had looked her in the eyes after she had cuckolded that dreadful dandy. Alice had detested the look of pity in his eyes, imagined or not.

And now she ached. She ached to be held and shushed and crooned to. She ached to be reprimanded, or to be told what her focus should be. The feeling of purposelessness was consuming, frightening.

"Oh, Alice," she sighed.

She ached for a friend. For bright green eyes and a gap-toothed grin. For years, she'd lain awake at night and dreamed of him. Of all the things she should have, could have, would have said, of had, of been.

He might have liked that rhyme, even if it was a bit lopsided.

Alice had never been in love, and she acknowledged that she was inexperienced in that. But, she thought, if she could describe love or yearning, it would be what she felt for Underland, for the Hatter.

The ground crumbled beneath her feet.

Alice looked down at her muddy white boots, and into the dark, seemingly bottomless hole just beneath her toes. She hadn't noticed, but somewhere she seemed to have cut her leg open rather deeply. Dark red liquid leaked from her dress onto the damp leaves.

Her chest burned and Alice could barely breathe. This was a way to Underland. To home. She knew it like she knew trade routes and spice prices. But there was another knowing, one that cramped her belly and made her hands even colder.

If she left, she would not come back. There was no jabberwocky to slay this time. And even if she found another way into this dreary world, she couldn't withstand the thought of never coming back to Underland.

Would she do it? Would she give up all her hard work, the laboriously owned work, the life and career she'd made for herself, all to live out her days in some wonky dream?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Of course she would.

Alice plunged down the hole, reveling in the feel of falling but knowing the worst she would land with would be a good jolt to her bones. She could not say she feel more gracefully this time, but it was a lot easier to fall knowing you wouldn't die at the other end of the trip.

She landed hard on her knees, but was up in no time, scrambling for the table. There was no potion or cake, much to her astonishment. Only a brass key and an already open door. Alice's heart sped up. She had done it. She gripped the key in her hand so tightly, it cut into her skin, but she did not care.

There was a hat on the end of this key, with silly, silky pink ribbons trailing from it like some exotic candy. This could only mean one thing.

Alice stepped through the doorway, into the night. The stars here were always as bright as being in the middle of the sea, she thought. That had not changed. Flowers mumbled in their sleep, reprimanding husbands who snored too loudly and children who giggled when it was clearly time to be sleeping.

Nightbirds danced and warbled. The warm wind giggled as it swept by her, carrying the smell of tea and flowers. Little lights weaved in and out of the trees, sighing and whispering "This way, Alice!" Alice was startled to see that these lights were little people, with sweet slanted eyes and tiny hands and feet.

She followed them, hoping they weren't something bad she'd never learned before. Twice, she thought about waiting for the sun to rise and seeking out some passerby to ask for directions, but it was if she needed to follow the lights. There was an odd pull, somewhere in the region of her navel that tugged at her, yanking mercilessly when she turned the wrong way.

The Champion walked for hours it seemed, into the very deepest part of the night, when she came along a little clearing with a small cottage. It was tiny, with a narrow crooked chimney and gingerbread trim. There was a tiny crooked river and a dainty waterwheel and a picnic table decked in the finest of mismatched china.

Above the door swung a merry wooden hat, painted in bright pink with yellow ribbons.

Alice had dreamed of what his house would be like. She'd painted many a picture in her head, but none had come close to this, and none seemed right at all now.

Wearily, she crossed the dainty bridge to the door, turning the knob, which would not budge. With a shrug, she inserted the key into the lock, not even mildly surprised when it then turned easily in her hand. She again pocketed the key and locked the door behind her.

There were no lights in the house, only the sleepy coals of a fire casting the barest hint of shine on the gloom in the house. The front room, it seemed, was both parlor and kitchen, with cozy, overstuffed chairs, and random assortments of china, thimbles, cans of tea, ribbons and cloth. A mounted shadow box of scissors hung on velvet above the fireplace. She peeked into all the rooms - a broom closet, a tiny pantry, a loo with a huge brass tub, and lastly, a workshop.

Alice pushed open the door in wonder. There might have been a thousand hats in all stages of completion, yards of fabric, needles, every shade of thread imaginable, rolls and rolls and rolls of ribbons and lace, and to her great surprise, in one corner, hung dresses, all in shades of blue. She ran her hands over them, marveling at the lovely simplicity.

They ranged from the palest blue, to the dark of night, some with hints of a flounce, or just a bit of lace, or velvet. Some were as bright as a summer morning and some as dark as the ocean at night.

"Hatter," she breathed, knowing in her heart that they were for her. Oh, she would have to spend a life time thanking him for these if they were truly hers.

She closed the door behind her with a soft snicker and ascended the stairs as quietly as she could. There was only one door at the top of the stairs and a soft snore sounded gently from behind it.

The Champion took a deep breath, more afraid right then than she ever had been in her life, whether it be slaying the Jabberwocky or riding out a storm on the coast of Africa in the crow's nest. Nothing was more frightening than finding out just how late she was.

She opened the door to find her Hatter sprawled in his shirt and breeches, with mismatched socks and wild hair spread everywhere. His lips were parted in the mindless gape of sleep, looking the most peaceful she'd ever seen him. His hair was only a bit longer, much more curl and much less frizz now, though his skin was as pale as ever.

Alice sighed, suddenly feeling older and more weary than the oldest sailor on every dock in the world. All she wanted was to sleep in, knowing that when she woke, everything in her life would be different.

With a quietness born of many nights of sneaking to the deck in the middle of the night to look at the stars, Alice stripped herself of the offending garments, seized a large and well-patched shirt from the wardrobe to the right of the bed, and climbed into the bed next to the Hatter.

She lay there for a moment, contemplating the warmth of another person beside her, which she had never known in all of her adult life, the softness of the bed, and the warm spicy scent of tea that lingered in the linen she wore.

Shyness was not in Alice's nature. She was cold and desperately lonely, and the Hatter was there, warm and asleep and more alive than any man in England could ever hope to be. She settled herself into the crook of his shoulder and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tarrant woke with his nose tickling. His pale face scrunched, and he brushed at his nose rapidly, fighting to ignore the faint sunshine pouring through his window. He snuggled deep into the covers, yanking and pulling them until he was comfortable again, crowding closer to the heat the radiated next to him.

At first, he thought he was dreaming when he felt the soft body next to his. It was by no means an uncommon occurrence for the Hatter to realize his dreams where not reality and to have a quick fit through the house, tossing and breaking whatever lay in his path. Chairs, fingers, crockery; it mattered little.

But seeing that it was to be a fine morning with nothing to do, he blearily decided it would be quite alright to pretend for just a few minutes longer.

Then the warmth next to him began to mumble and move.

Eyesbrows flying into his hairline, Tarrant's great green eyes popped open with a start. There, below the covers, where his feet poked out at end, was a slim white leg much too dainty and sockless to be his own.

Hardly daring to breath, the Hatter tilted his head and saw Alice's sleeping face crowded close to his on the single pillow. He blinked and discreetly stabbed himself in the leg with a needle in his pocket to make sure he was not dreaming.

He wasn't.

Alice sighed and grumbled at his movement, crowding closer to him, one lea arm winding around his waist and tugging him closer. He let himself be pulled, still slack-jawed and bemused at the glorious sight taking up most of his bed.

"Ahlice," he said roughly, his voice grating on his own ears. "Oh, Alice. You're so very late." He rose up on one elbow, running the fingers of his free hand gently down her cheek.

But she didn't seem to care, just smiled softly in her sleep. "Mmm, Hatter..." she said sleepily, her lips curving as she snuggled closer. "You smell like tea..."

The Hatter very gently pressed his lips to her cheek, then leaned away.

Tea. Right. Tea was something he could do.

Gingerly, he pried himself away from her, raising his eyes to the ceiling to avoid that lovely leg still tangled in his covers, and the sight of her wrapped up in one of his oldest shirts.

No tea would be equal to whatever he cooked up today.

!

Alice awoke to the warm smell of tea and the feeling of being watched very intently.

She smiled into the pillow. "I told you I would remember you."

"I should hope so. Most ladies wouldn't hop into the bed of men they couldn't remember." The Hatter's voice was warm and sweet, like a fresh berry scone with clotted cream. Alice rolled over.

He barely had time to toss the cup over his shoulder and catch her as she pelted herself at him. At once he was surrounded by springy blond curls and giggles and her arms wrapped around his neck.

Alice Kingsleigh, who had never in all her days kissed any man or boy save for her father, planted the biggest, happiest kiss in all the history of kisses firmly against the Hatter's mad, gap-toothed grin.

"Oh, how I have missed you!" she mumbled against his mouth, her arms threatening to rend the very breath from his lungs. He didn't mind. Couldn't mind, really, with her soft mouth pressed in a smile against his own. She pulled back, eyes bright brown and sparkling like fine crystal, her cheeks flushed, and her mouth rosy.

There, in that half heartbeat of a moment, Tarrant Hightopp thought of many Things. He thought of the many nights he had raged into his pillow with the Missing of Alice, of the many Dreams of Alice, and the many mournful hours of making dresses for the unlikely occasion of Alice's coming home. He thought of this Kiss, which he would never forget, in all his many eternities of Hatter-hood. But most of all, he thought of the Pain of Alice leaving and the bittersweet joy of Alice's Return.

"Ahlice," he said, his eyes boring into hers, hands tightening on her arms enough to make her listen. "I nee' ta know, righ' this minute, how lon' you'll be staying in Underlan'." He throat burned with the Waiting for an Answer. "Ha' you found yer answers, lass?"

"Hatter," asked Alice, "What is your real name?" Her face was smooth and blank, but her eyes were burning right back into his.

"Tarrant," he said, startled clear out of his brogue. He cleared his throat nervously. "Tarrant Hightopp. Of the clan Hightopp. We're all reknowned hatters and tailors and cobblers, you know. We've made the best in clothing for centuries, for all the various royalty throughout Underland. All the best hats and gown and slippers. Once, we even made some slippers out of glass for a lovely young lady by the name of-"

"Hatter," she said firmly.

"I'm fine," he wheezed. "Sorry."

"Tarrant, I should like to stay in Underland for the rest of my days." She laid her head against his collar bone, listening to the erratic thumping tune of his heart. "I have missed it terribly and answered far more questions than I had to begin with."

Tarrant's heart melted then, feeling as if he could Futterwacken for a thousand years with only small breaks for tea and cake and Alice.

"Oh, Alice," he whispered against her hair. "You said that just in time."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Alice smiled against the Hatter's shoulder. "Remember that. It'll likely be the last time it'll happen. Being late is something I'm known for, you see." She nuzzled her face against his shirt, idly running her fingers through the ringlets of orange hair at the nape of his neck. "I've been trying to come back for so long. But just like every time before, I've only been able to come back whenever I'd desperately needed to." She pressed a soft kiss to the skin along his collar. "I'm so tired, Tarrant. Nearly the entire time I have been gone, I've been racing to get back."

Tarrant concentrated on breathing, tracing intricate patterns along her back with his stained fingers. "We really should get you to the palace. Everyone will be abuzz with news of your return."

Alice shook her head. "Can it be tomorrow, Tarrant? Please, can it be tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Of course, Alice." He pulled back, eyes bright and a dazzling green. "I have some things to show you!" He sat up, spinning her expertly to her feet. "You can't run around in my shirt tail forever, you know!"

Alice smiled her own Chessur smile, letting him tug her down the stairs while he chattered about this and that, on who'd had kittens, how he traveled to the palace once a month to turn in all the orders he'd made for the White Queen and her court, how he'd heard someone had seen the Bloody Red Queen and how her head was even bigger now.

The Hatter forced a cup of sweet, floral tea down her throat along with some sort of teacake, then whisked her into his work room, proudly presenting all the dresses he'd made for her. She hadn't the heart to tell him she had peeked the night before.

"You always arrive in such a late mess, Alice. I thought I would have something for you to change into for once."

Alice almost cried, then, but decided she shouldn't. "Tarrant, they are the most perfect, most wonderful, beautiful dresses I have ever seen." As she spoke, she tried to let all of her feelings at that moment shine into her eyes.

The Hatter's smile faltered for a moment and his eyes flared a strange, lovely, lavender, before they returned to normal. "I'll leave you to pick your dress, then. I shall draw you a bath!" he announced, trying to sweep out of the room.

Alice caught him by his sleeve. "Tarrant, pick out which gown I am to wear today. Please." For some mad reason, she knew it would please him, and for the moment, that was her ultimate goal.

The Mad Hatter hesitated, then moved to one dress without even glancing over them. He handed it to her, along with a dainty confection of a hat, and soft kid boots dyed to match the dress' trim, then strode from the room without another word. There were no corsets, no dress hoops, no stockings to be found.

Alice stroked the dress wordlessly, marveling at it. It was a pale, delicate blue, trimmed in the barest hint of ivory lace. It had a lovely round neckline and a wide satin ivory sash and fell at a graceful fold to just above her ankles. The hat was the same powder blue, trimmed in more pale satin with a dainty lace bow. The whole thing had been sewn atop a white head band, cushioned of course. The boots were soft and well worked. There was not a bit of it made to hinder her movement.

Feeling a bit giddy, she rushed from the room, flashed a smile at a strained looking Hatter, then padded her way into the bathroom.

The huge tub, which the night before had looked like a hulking beast in the dark was filled to the brim with cake scented bubbled and what might have been ten multicolored ducks floating amongst the foam. Alice laughed out loud.

She spent nearly an hour languishing in the tub, then dressed.

Hatter eyed her with a slightly hungry look in his eye as she turned and preened for his approval. "I did well," he said, looking pleased with himself, suddenly.

She smiled at him. "Hatter-"

"Tarrant," he said fiercely.

"Tarrant, I hope... I hope I'm not keeping you from your work. You don't have to keep me company all day. I know what your trade means to you."

He smiled then, a silly gap-toothed grin at made her insides melt just a little. "Oh, wee Alice, I am the most overworked hatter in the kingdom. Even I will take a day to myself to welcome you home."

With that, he led her from the house.

They dined on all manner of strange goodies he pilfered from his pantry, he taught her the finer points of a good Futterwacken, and they turned cartwheels in the grass. He looked horrified for a moment when she suggested they turn her whalebone hoop into a boat for a moment, then giggled like a school boy. Alice shyly held his hand on the bridge while he told her all the changes in Underland with the White Queen as the ruling body. They danced a different kind of dance in the evening, something slower and sweeter, which Tarrant wouldn't tell her the name of.

Alice told him of all the wonders she'd seen across the globe, of the strange and lovely people she'd met. She told him about the monks of China and Tibet, samurai from Japan, the Natives of the Americas. She told him about the food, the languages, the sights and smells and tastes of her journeys and he delighted in them as much through her tales as she had when she'd experienced it first hand.

He fed her cake and tortes and tea with honey, with lemon, with cream.

Alice felt full of good things, of life, of love -if this is what it was- and a quiet joy she had never once known in all her four and twenty years.

"Alice," said the Hatter idly as he looked up at the very full moon, his fingers tangled with hers. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I haven't the slightest idea."

Alice smiled against the Hatter's shoulder. "Remember that. It'll likely be the last time it'll happen. Being late is something I'm known for, you see." She nuzzled her face against his shirt, idly running her fingers through the ringlets of orange hair at the nape of his neck. "I've been trying to come back for so long. But just like every time before, I've only been able to come back whenever I'd desperately needed to." She pressed a soft kiss to the skin along his collar. "I'm so tired, Tarrant. Nearly the entire time I have been gone, I've been racing to get back."

Tarrant consintrated on breathing, tracing intricate patterns along her back with his stained fingers. "We really should get you to the palace. Everyone will be abuzz with news of your return."

Alice shook her head. "Can it be tomorrow, Tarrant? Please, can it be tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Of course, Alice." He pulled back, eyes bright and a dazzling green. "I have some things to show you!" He sat up, spinning her expertly to her feet. "You can't run around in my shirt tail forever, you know!"

Alice smiled her own Chessur smilie, letting him tug her down the stairs while he chattered about this and that, on who'd had kittens, how he traveled to the palace once a month to turn in all the orders he'd made for the White Queen and her court, how he'd heard someone had seen the Bloody Red Queen and how her head was even bigger now.

The Hatter forced a cup of sweet, floral tea down her throat along with some sort of teacake, then whisked her into hsi work room, proudly presenting all the dresses he'd made for her. She hadn't the heart to tell him she had peeked the night before.

"You always arrive in such a late mess, Alice. I thought I would have something for you to change into for once."

Alice almost cried, then, but decided she shouldn't. "Tarrant, they are the most perfect, most wonderful, beautiful dresses I have ever seen." As she spoke, she tried to let all of her feelings at that moment shine into her eyes.

The Hatter's smile faltered for a moment and hsi eyes flared a strange, lovely, lavender, before they returned to normal. "I'll leave you to pick your dress, then. I shall draw you a bath!" he announced, trying to sweep out of the room.

Alice caught him by his sleeve. "Tarrant, pick out which gown I am to wear today. Please." For some mad reason, she knew it would please him, and for the moment, that was her ultimate goal.

The Mad Hatter hesitated, then moved to one dress without even glancing over them. He handed it to her, along with a dainty confection of a hat, and soft kid boots dyed to match the dress' trim, then stroad from the room without another word. There were no corsets, no dress hoops, no stockings to be found.

Alice stroaked the dress wordlessly, marveling at it. It was a pale, delicate blue, trimmed in the barest hint of ivory lace. It had a lovely round neckline and a wide satin ivory sash and fell at a graceful fold to just above her ankles. The hat was the same powder blue, trimmed in more pale satin with a dainty lace bow. The whole thing had been sewn atop a white head band, cushioned of course. The boots were soft and well worked. There was not a bit of it made to hinder her movement.

Feeling a bit giddy, she rushed from the room, flashed a smile at a strained looking Hatter, then padded her way into the bathroom.

The huge tub, which the night before had looked like a hulking beast in the dark was fillled to the brim with cake scented bubbled and what might have been ten multicolored ducks floating amongst the foam. Alice laughed outloud.

She spent nearly an hour languishing in the tub, then dressed.

Hatter eyed her with a slightly hungry look in his eye as she turned and preened for his approval. "I did well," he said, looking pleased with himself, suddenly.

She smiled at him. "Hatter-"

"Tarrant," he said feircly.

"Tarrant, I hope... I hope I'm not keeing you from your work. You dont have to keep me company all day. I know what your trade means to you."

He smiled then, a silly gap-toothed grin at made her insides melt just a little. "Oh, wee Alice, I am the most overworked hatter in the kingdom. Even I will take a day to myself to welcome you home."

With that, he led her from the house.

They dined on all manner of strange goodies he pilfered from his pantry, he taught her the finer points of a good Futterwacken, and they turned cartwheels in the grass. He looked horrified for a moment when she suggested they turn her whalebone hoop into a boat for a moment, then giggled like a school boy. Alice shyly held his hand on the bridge while he told her all the changes in Underland with the White Queen as the ruling body. They danced a different kind of dance in the evening, something slower and sweeter, which Tarrant wouldn't tell her the name of.

Alice told him of all the wonders she'd seen across the globe, of the strange and lovely people she'd met. She told him about the monks of China and Tibet, samurai from Japan, the Natives of the Americas. She told him about the food, the languages, the sights and smells and tastes of her jouneys and he delighted in them as much through her tales as she had when she'd experienced it first hand.

He fed her cake and tortes and tea with honey, with lemon, with cream.

Alice felt full of good things, of life, of love -if this is what it was- and a quiet joy she had never once known in all her four and twenty years.

"Alice," said the Hatter idly as he looked up at the very full moon, his fingers tangled with hers. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I haven't the slightest idea."

Alice smiled against the Hatter's shoulder. "Remember that. It'll likely be the last time it'll happen. Being late is something I'm known for, you see." She nuzzled her face against his shirt, idly running her fingers through the ringlets of orange hair at the nape of his neck. "I've been trying to come back for so long. But just like every time before, I've only been able to come back whenever I'd desperately needed to." She pressed a soft kiss to the skin along his collar. "I'm so tired, Tarrant. Nearly the entire time I have been gone, I've been racing to get back."

Tarrant consintrated on breathing, tracing intricate patterns along her back with his stained fingers. "We really should get you to the palace. Everyone will be abuzz with news of your return."

Alice shook her head. "Can it be tomorrow, Tarrant? Please, can it be tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Of course, Alice." He pulled back, eyes bright and a dazzling green. "I have some things to show you!" He sat up, spinning her expertly to her feet. "You can't run around in my shirt tail forever, you know!"

Alice smiled her own Chessur smilie, letting him tug her down the stairs while he chattered about this and that, on who'd had kittens, how he traveled to the palace once a month to turn in all the orders he'd made for the White Queen and her court, how he'd heard someone had seen the Bloody Red Queen and how her head was even bigger now.

The Hatter forced a cup of sweet, floral tea down her throat along with some sort of teacake, then whisked her into hsi work room, proudly presenting all the dresses he'd made for her. She hadn't the heart to tell him she had peeked the night before.

"You always arrive in such a late mess, Alice. I thought I would have something for you to change into for once."

Alice almost cried, then, but decided she shouldn't. "Tarrant, they are the most perfect, most wonderful, beautiful dresses I have ever seen." As she spoke, she tried to let all of her feelings at that moment shine into her eyes.

The Hatter's smile faltered for a moment and hsi eyes flared a strange, lovely, lavender, before they returned to normal. "I'll leave you to pick your dress, then. I shall draw you a bath!" he announced, trying to sweep out of the room.

Alice caught him by his sleeve. "Tarrant, pick out which gown I am to wear today. Please." For some mad reason, she knew it would please him, and for the moment, that was her ultimate goal.

The Mad Hatter hesitated, then moved to one dress without even glancing over them. He handed it to her, along with a dainty confection of a hat, and soft kid boots dyed to match the dress' trim, then stroad from the room without another word. There were no corsets, no dress hoops, no stockings to be found.

Alice stroaked the dress wordlessly, marveling at it. It was a pale, delicate blue, trimmed in the barest hint of ivory lace. It had a lovely round neckline and a wide satin ivory sash and fell at a graceful fold to just above her ankles. The hat was the same powder blue, trimmed in more pale satin with a dainty lace bow. The whole thing had been sewn atop a white head band, cushioned of course. The boots were soft and well worked. There was not a bit of it made to hinder her movement.

Feeling a bit giddy, she rushed from the room, flashed a smile at a strained looking Hatter, then padded her way into the bathroom.

The huge tub, which the night before had looked like a hulking beast in the dark was fillled to the brim with cake scented bubbled and what might have been ten multicolored ducks floating amongst the foam. Alice laughed outloud.

She spent nearly an hour languishing in the tub, then dressed.

Hatter eyed her with a slightly hungry look in his eye as she turned and preened for his approval. "I did well," he said, looking pleased with himself, suddenly.

She smiled at him. "Hatter-"

"Tarrant," he said feircly.

"Tarrant, I hope... I hope I'm not keeing you from your work. You dont have to keep me company all day. I know what your trade means to you."

He smiled then, a silly gap-toothed grin at made her insides melt just a little. "Oh, wee Alice, I am the most overworked hatter in the kingdom. Even I will take a day to myself to welcome you home."

With that, he led her from the house.

They dined on all manner of strange goodies he pilfered from his pantry, he taught her the finer points of a good Futterwacken, and they turned cartwheels in the grass. He looked horrified for a moment when she suggested they turn her whalebone hoop into a boat for a moment, then giggled like a school boy. Alice shyly held his hand on the bridge while he told her all the changes in Underland with the White Queen as the ruling body. They danced a different kind of dance in the evening, something slower and sweeter, which Tarrant wouldn't tell her the name of.

Alice told him of all the wonders she'd seen across the globe, of the strange and lovely people she'd met. She told him about the monks of China and Tibet, samurai from Japan, the Natives of the Americas. She told him about the food, the languages, the sights and smells and tastes of her jouneys and he delighted in them as much through her tales as she had when she'd experienced it first hand.

He fed her cake and tortes and tea with honey, with lemon, with cream.

Alice felt full of good things, of life, of love -if this is what it was- and a quiet joy she had never once known in all her four and twenty years.

"Alice," said the Hatter idly as he looked up at the very full moon, his fingers tangled with hers. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I haven't the slightest idea."

Alice smiled against the Hatter's shoulder. "Remember that. It'll likely be the last time it'll happen. Being late is something I'm known for, you see." She nuzzled her face against his shirt, idly running her fingers through the ringlets of orange hair at the nape of his neck. "I've been trying to come back for so long. But just like every time before, I've only been able to come back whenever I'd desperately needed to." She pressed a soft kiss to the skin along his collar. "I'm so tired, Tarrant. Nearly the entire time I have been gone, I've been racing to get back."

Tarrant consintrated on breathing, tracing intricate patterns along her back with his stained fingers. "We really should get you to the palace. Everyone will be abuzz with news of your return."

Alice shook her head. "Can it be tomorrow, Tarrant? Please, can it be tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Of course, Alice." He pulled back, eyes bright and a dazzling green. "I have some things to show you!" He sat up, spinning her expertly to her feet. "You can't run around in my shirt tail forever, you know!"

Alice smiled her own Chessur smilie, letting him tug her down the stairs while he chattered about this and that, on who'd had kittens, how he traveled to the palace once a month to turn in all the orders he'd made for the White Queen and her court, how he'd heard someone had seen the Bloody Red Queen and how her head was even bigger now.

The Hatter forced a cup of sweet, floral tea down her throat along with some sort of teacake, then whisked her into hsi work room, proudly presenting all the dresses he'd made for her. She hadn't the heart to tell him she had peeked the night before.

"You always arrive in such a late mess, Alice. I thought I would have something for you to change into for once."

Alice almost cried, then, but decided she shouldn't. "Tarrant, they are the most perfect, most wonderful, beautiful dresses I have ever seen." As she spoke, she tried to let all of her feelings at that moment shine into her eyes.

The Hatter's smile faltered for a moment and hsi eyes flared a strange, lovely, lavender, before they returned to normal. "I'll leave you to pick your dress, then. I shall draw you a bath!" he announced, trying to sweep out of the room.

Alice caught him by his sleeve. "Tarrant, pick out which gown I am to wear today. Please." For some mad reason, she knew it would please him, and for the moment, that was her ultimate goal.

The Mad Hatter hesitated, then moved to one dress without even glancing over them. He handed it to her, along with a dainty confection of a hat, and soft kid boots dyed to match the dress' trim, then stroad from the room without another word. There were no corsets, no dress hoops, no stockings to be found.

Alice stroaked the dress wordlessly, marveling at it. It was a pale, delicate blue, trimmed in the barest hint of ivory lace. It had a lovely round neckline and a wide satin ivory sash and fell at a graceful fold to just above her ankles. The hat was the same powder blue, trimmed in more pale satin with a dainty lace bow. The whole thing had been sewn atop a white head band, cushioned of course. The boots were soft and well worked. There was not a bit of it made to hinder her movement.

Feeling a bit giddy, she rushed from the room, flashed a smile at a strained looking Hatter, then padded her way into the bathroom.

The huge tub, which the night before had looked like a hulking beast in the dark was fillled to the brim with cake scented bubbled and what might have been ten multicolored ducks floating amongst the foam. Alice laughed outloud.

She spent nearly an hour languishing in the tub, then dressed.

Hatter eyed her with a slightly hungry look in his eye as she turned and preened for his approval. "I did well," he said, looking pleased with himself, suddenly.

She smiled at him. "Hatter-"

"Tarrant," he said feircly.

"Tarrant, I hope... I hope I'm not keeing you from your work. You dont have to keep me company all day. I know what your trade means to you."

He smiled then, a silly gap-toothed grin at made her insides melt just a little. "Oh, wee Alice, I am the most overworked hatter in the kingdom. Even I will take a day to myself to welcome you home."

With that, he led her from the house.

They dined on all manner of strange goodies he pilfered from his pantry, he taught her the finer points of a good Futterwacken, and they turned cartwheels in the grass. He looked horrified for a moment when she suggested they turn her whalebone hoop into a boat for a moment, then giggled like a school boy. Alice shyly held his hand on the bridge while he told her all the changes in Underland with the White Queen as the ruling body. They danced a different kind of dance in the evening, something slower and sweeter, which Tarrant wouldn't tell her the name of.

Alice told him of all the wonders she'd seen across the globe, of the strange and lovely people she'd met. She told him about the monks of China and Tibet, samurai from Japan, the Natives of the Americas. She told him about the food, the languages, the sights and smells and tastes of her jouneys and he delighted in them as much through her tales as she had when she'd experienced it first hand.

He fed her cake and tortes and tea with honey, with lemon, with cream.

Alice felt full of good things, of life, of love -if this is what it was- and a quiet joy she had never once known in all her four and twenty years.

"Alice," said the Hatter idly as he looked up at the very full moon, his fingers tangled with hers. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I haven't the slightest idea."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Tarrant Hightopp led Alice up the stairs, struggling to control his breathing. Something was about to happen. This feeling that had sprouted in his chest was leading somewhere. Somewhere warm and inviting, like Alice's lips. He struggled with the Wanting of getting another Taste, then of being a Gentleman and courting her Proper.

When he lingered by the door, Alice looked at him curiously. "I'm fine," he wheezed. Tarrant swallowed hard and stepped in with her.

She smiled at him, a bit shier than what he would have ever expected of Champion Alice. Her fingers were still woven with his, a sensation he was not eager to relinquish. He gazed at her levelly, feeling his face flush, knowing his eyes were changing with it.

She reached up and gently tugged his hat down, placing it gently on the bedside table with her free hand. Then Alice smiled, a sweet innocent smile that he would never forget. It would go with all the Special Alice Memories in his mind to treasure whenever he went completely mad. She raised on tiptoe and very slowly, very gently, pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth.

Then there was Madness.

"Ahlice," he growled, tangling his free hand in her hair and slanting his mouth over hers like a man dying of thirst presses his mouth to a glass of sweet cool water. The other hand let go of hers to press against her waist, his finger biting into her soft flesh. She returned his kiss with equal fervor, moaning sweetly into his mouth. Her hands found the lapels of his coat, tugging furiously. He let loose of her only long enough to rip it from his body and toss it to the floor. Her fingers trembled as she undid the buttons of his vest, pushing it off his shoulders, then with growing confidence she worked the buttons of his shirt, spreading it across his chest. When her cold fingers touched his feverish skin, he nearly howled.

He expertly pulled the sash off of her in one fluid motion, fingers working the yards of material into bunches so he could pull it from her head.

"Oh, don't rip it, Tarrant," she breathed against his lips.

"Ah'll make you ah new one," he rasped. "Ah'll make you a thousan' new ones."

With that, her concern for the dress was gone. The place where his shoulder and neck met was much more interesting. She kissed it delicately, then scraped it with her teeth, licking it sweetly to sooth the hurt she'd caused. He shuddered in he arms, pushing her away long enough to yank her dress over her head. She stepped out of her boots, standing only in her light bloomers. His eyes darkened from lavender to violet as he saw the cool air caress her nosy nipples. He reached out and gently brushed them with his thumbs, delighting in the way they pebbled in reaction.

Tarrant was ready to toss her on the bed when she reached down to the floor, plucking up the hat he;d made for her with a coy smile.

The Mad Hatter smiled wickedly. "Naughty Ahlice," he growled as he stepped forward. In reaction, Alice ended up sitting on the bed. Like hummingbirds, her hands hovered at the button of his trousers. She glanced up at his, her eyes wide and luminous in the moonlight. Then with a deliciously determined glint her her eye, she bit her lip and unfastened them.

He sprang into her eager hands, nearly losing himself then and there when she grasped him in one soft palm, gently stroking. When her lips slid along the tip, his knees buckled a little and his hand tangled in her hair.

Her mouth was warm and wet as she tasted him with agonizing slowness, her mouth tightening as she gained the rhythm his hands taught her. One of her lovely hands slow slid around to grasp his hip, the thumb sliding along the bone there.

At least, the Mad Hatter couldn't take it any longer. He tossed her higher on the bed, her bloomers sailing to the floor. His large hands, stained and bandaged, looked even larger against the pale flesh of her belly as he held there, drinking in the sight of her laying in his bed, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes bright with a fever he felt just as strongly.

His body ran with tremors as he explored her body with complete reverence, his palms sliding against her soft breasts, his tongue following. He lingered there, running his nails lightly along her sides as she squirmed under him, her hands gripping his shoulders until he thought he might bleed. Not that he minded in the least.

He paid a brief homage to her navel, dipping his tongue into the tempting well of flesh, his eyes flicking up to catch the dazed look in her eyes. He smiled, his eyes swimming with shades of purple and he reached his prize.

He parted her gently, kissing her woman places much as he would her mouth, with all the sweetness and yearning he'd bottled since the last time he'd seen her, so many. His tongue danced and dipped, the coldness of his thimble against her folds making her jump and moan his name. He paused with eyes closed as he savored that sound.

When he thought she was ready, he finished his tender tongue ministrations of her core, raising his lips to the tight bundle of nerves at the top of her mound. With his free hand, he held her bucking hips still until he felt her shudder and tasted the honey of her climax.

With lips licked clean, he rose, jerking off his trousers completely, tossing them to the floor. His eyes roamed her body hungrily, lapping up the sight of her like sweet cream.

Alice panted, wondering what was keeping him, then in a sudden moment of clarity, she knew what as missing.

She opened her arms to him with a smile, as if welcoming him home.

Tarrant shuddered, then crawled atop her, drowning in that tremulous smile. He kissed her gently, rubbing his cheek against her while he entered her. He paused at the barrier he encountered, looking down at Alice questioningly. She ducked her head with a small smile, tucking her face against his shoulder. He nudged her back with his chin, smiling at her possessively, then kissed her to distraction while he broke past the barrier. She went rigid, but he brought her back with drugging kisses and quick strokes of his fingers.

When she finally was matching his gentle tempo, he allowed his eyes to squeeze shut as her tightness blinded him to everything but the feel of her silken body beneath him.

How long had he dreamed of this? How many nights had he lain awake in this very bed, thinking of all the ways he could make Alice love him enough to stay, with his trade, with his love, his body, with any means at his disposal.

Alice made urgent little noises in her throat, drawing him back to the matter at hand. her eyes were a little glazed and she gazed up with him with such pleasure and love on her face that he thought he might die right then and there.

When she began to contract around him, he picked up speed, thrusting into her over and over until he felt her fall over the edge. Moments later, he followed her.

They lay together for a long time after that, basking in the smell of tea and lovemaking, their hands twined together once more.


End file.
